Better Off Dead
by jss4683
Summary: Set after season 3. Elena's relationship with Stefan is on a downward spiral, and she finds that letting go of Damon is easier said than done. She couldn't let herself love him while she was alive. How will her feelings change now that she is dead?
1. Your heart is my piñata

Elena POV

I waited until I heard the front door slam before letting out the breath I had been holding. Anger surged through my entire body, pooling in my fingertips.

I wanted to break something. Badly.

Instead I opened the bedroom door and tiptoed out into the hallway. I don't know why I was bothering trying to be quiet about it; he had most definitely heard the latest war waged between his brother and I. It seems as if Stefan and I have done nothing but fight in these past few weeks.

Sadness rushed in to replace the fading anger. I had been stupid to think that we still had a chance after the past year: between our time apart, my still unclear feelings for his brother, and the fact that Stefan had come back a totally different person, what chance did we really have? And that was when I was still human.

Adjusting to this new life, had at times, seemed impossible. Still seems impossible. Stefan, inexplicably, is taking it even worse than I am. He can't even look me in the eyes anymore. I guess neither one of us is the same person the other fell in love with.

I make my way closer to the semi- lit bedroom down the hall. His door is cracked and I can hear his muffled breathing. When I look around the door and into his room I see that this is because he has his head buried under a pile of pillows. His bare arms are holding them down around his ears. He doesn't even look up when he speaks. "Tell me I can finally go to sleep now, Elena," he grumbles, sounding very much annoyed.

"Stefan left," I reply quietly, studying his floor.

He pulls himself up into a seated position and cocks an eyebrow my way. "So you're what… bed hopping." He smirks. "Does someone want a curling iron for Christmas?"

I ignore the jab and walk to stand next to the bed, absently running my fingers over the edge of the sheets. Everything feels different now that I am a vampire, and I find myself re-experiencing things in a whole new way every single day. Sometimes my new senses can be fun and exciting, other times they are just plain distracting.

"Elena," Damon says sternly, breaking me from my reverie. I pull my hand away from the silk and he shoots me a look. "What do you want? I'm tired."

I can't help but smile. "Well that sounds familiar… I seem to remember saying that to a certain guy that always seemed to appear in **_my_** room at the most inconvenient times." I climb in next to him and throw the blanket over my lap. "I think I'll repay the favor. Let's see how **_you_** like it."

Damon POV

Elena slides into bed next to me, completely ignoring the fact that I am currently shirtless, and, oh yeah, **_trying to sleep_**, and proceeds to wrap herself up in my blanket. I narrow my eyes at her to keep them from widening.

This girl seems to have grown some balls in addition to her new fangs.

She has the nerve to look shy after making herself comfortable. "Did you hear us fighting?"

I roll my eyes in reply. Of course I heard them fighting. A partially deaf human could have heard all that screeching and squawking from the next block over. Fortunately, although there is no way to ignore the volume, I have trained myself to tune out their actual words over the years. Otherwise, I ran the risk of hearing way too many sappy declarations of undying love from those two. Mental note: I should move out.

Elena has continued talking, completely oblivious to the fact that I have not been listening to a single word of it. I catch the end of her rant. "…and then he just left right in the middle of my sentence. He just stomped down the stairs and out the door before I even got to finish telling him how I feel."

_Oh sweet Jesus. _

"I am so sick of being cooped up in here, constantly monitored by Stefan and Caroline. I want to leave," she finishes in a huff, a pout pulling on her lips.

"What's stopping you," I motion toward the door, desperate to end this. She needs to get out of here before I do something stupid. I have never pretended to be honorable, and right now she is laying way to close to me.

In my bed.

After a fight with her boyfriend.

A look of confusion passes over her features. "You would let me leave? What if I hurt someone?"

"I am not your keeper, Elena," I scoff. I know her- she wouldn't dare leave this house. Caroline and Stefan have been her constant chaperons since she turned, and she would never risk going out without them and hurting a poor, defenseless human. Therefor this conversation does not need to take place.

I swear, being around all of them is like surrounding myself with children. Very stupid children.

Elena was going to kill someone eventually. It was just a matter of time. Better to get it over with sooner than drag it out all suspenseful- like.

Elena POV

I can't believe him! He is actually sending me off without a seconds thought; out into the world to do goodness knows what. I am unstable right now! I could hurt someone!

But through all of my silent indignation comes a quiet voice that is literally giddy with the idea of leaving the house. I have not been without my babysitters for weeks. Stefan is gone… Damon just said that he wouldn't stop me… Caroline is home, asleep.

I had only been venting when I said that thing about leaving earlier. Would I really have the courage to go out alone?

Part of me didn't trust Damon. He could just be messing with me. Why would he drop the guardian act all of a sudden? I decide to test this theory.

"So… you wouldn't mind if I left in the middle of the night, by myself, and let's say… went to a bar full of people and chowed down?"

"You wouldn't, so why ask," was his uninterested reply.

He had settled back down on his pillow, closing his eyes, and seemingly waiting for me to leave.

"You can handle yourself now, Elena. You don't need me or my brother protecting you from yourself anymore." He turned and shot me a look. "Now get out of here and go to bed."

I studied him silently for a moment before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "See you tomorrow, Damon. Goodnight."

"Sweet Dreams, Elena."

I closed his door on my way out. But instead of turning right towards my bedroom, I turned left and padded down the steps. I didn't stop until the doorknob was in my hand. He didn't think I had the courage to do it: to go out on my own, and to trust myself. I would show him.

I turned to knob and stepped out into the cold night air. Mirroring Stefan's actions from earlier, I slammed the front door just hard enough for Damon to hear it. Then I walked into the darkness with a smile.


	2. Boy Crazy

**Damon POV**

Of course I would follow her.

From where I sat, hidden in the shadows at the back of some dive bar on the edge of town, I could watch her without being close enough for her to sense me there.

Not that it mattered. Elena was so far gone that she was no longer half in the bag. Elena Gilbert was in the bag. Wholly.

Don't get me wrong- fun is a damn good look on her. One that she buries under that cloak of doom and gloom and Stefan-esque martyrdom far too often. I have only ever gotten glimpses of **_this_** Elena.

That being said, there are certain things that I would change about the image that is currently playing out in front of me.

For one, I am not a part of it.

Secondly, and more importantly, Elena currently has her drunk ass glued to some random stranger's lap. She is sitting there, perched atop some asshole's thighs, as he crawls his fingers all over her waist whilst encouraging her to drink and drink. Creep.

And to make things a little more interesting, he is not alone. The creep has brought along some buddies, who form a semi-circle around Elena and the bar. Kudos to Elena though, she can really entertain a crowd when she so desires.

She's eating up all the attention.

Well, lucky for me, she is not actually eating any of them. Yet.

I hear her let go another inebriated giggle, and I have to grip the table in front of me to quell the urge to stomp over there, grab her, and drag her home where she belongs. A few deep breaths ground me enough to remember that she doesn't need me to be her knight in shining armor anymore. She can take care of herself now.

I repeat that last bit like a mantra.

When I finally look up, it takes me a second to process what I am seeing. Or rather, not seeing. No Elena. No frat boys.

Where the hell did they go—for fuck's sake Elena!

I can't take my eyes off that girl for a minute. I burst out of the booth, hoping that I am not too late.

**Elena POV**

Ironically, I end up at a bar after all.

It was late, and a bar was just about my only option- not counting the 24 hour convenience store. I opt for a smaller, dingier place on the far side of town. I would have preferred the Grill, but didn't want to risk running into Stefan or any of my friends. This was by far the safer choice.

Still, it was a little icky.

Once I am inside and seated at the bar though, it's not so bad. In fact, right away I pick out some familiar faces- guys that went to my high school a few years back. They graduated a while ago, but I guess they are still hanging around Mystic Falls.

One of the guys catches my eyes and smiles a cocky little smile. He doesn't seem to know who I am. Good.

As he approaches, I try to remember his name—James? Josh? Something with a 'J'

He was popular in high school, I remember. I was just a freshman at the time, and dating Matt, but he caught the attention of a lot of girls at school. He had that all- American look: blonde hair, blue eyes, and a permanent tan. He was still pretty attractive now, if not a little run-down looking.

"Hi there," he flirts, twinkling those blue eyes at me. I can't help my thoughts drifting to a certain vampire whose blue eyes I have found myself lost in too many times. This guy had nothing on Damon.

I am about to shoot him down and send him back to his friends a little dejected but a whole lot safer, when something stops me. That little voice is back, and she is begging for some fun.

So I vow that I will keep it innocent but let myself loose a little tonight. Afterward, I can go back to the boarding house and let boring, worrisome, _vanilla _Elena take the wheel again.

"Hi," I say. "I'm… Brooke." I almost chuckle at the lie.

"I'm John," he says in return, still laying on the charm. I give myself an internal high-five for being right about the 'J' name.

After that, it only takes me about twenty minutes to throw that whole innocence vow out of the window.

Who knew that vampires could get _so _drunk.

I feel like I have only been throwing back shots for a short time, but then again, John and his friends keep lining them up faster than I can get them down.

I don't remember when or why I got off my barstool and climbed onto john's lap, but I don't want to move away just yet. A tiny part of me is just about screaming at how wrong this whole situation is, but honestly, it feels good to be held by someone who isn't judging or badgering me. So I stay right where I am. I will deal with the whole Stefan situation later. Ditto for the Damon situation.

John is, at the moment, whispering some pretty dirty things in my ear, and I feel his hands on my waist and his stubble brushing against my neck. This gets me thinking about what I want to do to his neck, and I giggle girlishly.

Unfortunately, he takes this to mean that I have agreed to whatever he just suggested and he says that we should all get out of here while sliding me off his lap and into a standing position. Darn it! I am too drunk to deal with this right now. Things are happening too quickly and I can't process them fast enough. _Shouldn't vampirism prevent me from getting this drunk- quick healing and all that?_ But I know that I have seen Damon drunk before. Caroline too.

Before I know what is happening, we are outside.

"Um, so this has been fun, but I think it's time for me to go." I can hear the slur in my voice.

The guys can too.

"I don't think so, Brooke," John sneers. He doesn't look handsome anymore. Just dangerous.

Somehow through my drunken haze, I feel my defensive instincts kicking in. Suddenly I am very hungry.

"Please," I manage. "I don't want to hurt you." I try to break through the circle they are forming around me, but one of the guys grabs my arms, pulling me back in.

They are laughing.

I feel my human façade start to slip, and now the atmosphere has changed. They are frightened. They are shocked. They are running.

It doesn't take me very long to kill the first. And then the second. They are slow from the alcohol they have consumed. But I am no longer drunk. I am hunting. And it feels so good.

By the time I reach him, he is the only one left. He has not gotten far—an ally a few blocks away. As our eyes meet, his cocky smile is gone. He is no longer the alpha male; he is my prey.

"What are you!?" He is choking back tears.

I smile at him one last time before ripping into his neck. And just as I am finishing him, and his blue eyes no longer sparkle, I cry out in shock.

What have I done?

The world is crashing down around me and I can't help the barrage of tears that are raining down. I try to shake John, to wake him up, but it is no use: he is dead.

They are all dead.

I drop the body and feel my sight start to darken. I am blacking out. I am falling.

But just before I hit the ground a pair of strong arms tighten around me, scooping me off of my feet. "Sleep Elena," he murmurs right before everything goes completely dark.

Damon.


	3. No Heroes Allowed

General POV

The moment Stefan stepped into the foyer, the smell of blood arrested him. It was not the smell of blood neatly packaged in plastic and stored within the freezer. That smell he could resist.

No. This was the smell of danger. Sweet and thick and taken in excess; taken carelessly. A unique scent that came from having it caked on your skin and dried on your clothing.

_Elena. _

He bolted for the stairs only to be stopped when his hearing picked up two sounds. A small gasp from Elena as she woke, and an almost inaudible "sshhh," from Damon.

Elena came bolting from Damon's bedroom, but Stefan was faster. He had her pinned to the wall before she even made it a few steps. "What have you done, Elena," he yelled. "Why do I smell—" He stopped when he took in her appearance.

Elena's eyes held a churning current, wild with confusion and fear. "St- Stefan…," she stuttered helplessly, "I don't know."

They both turned their attention to Damon, who was lounging in the doorway of his room with arms and legs crossed and a smirk on his face.

Stefan scowled at his brother, which only made the smirk grow until Elena let out a sob.

The sound set Stefan in motion, hurling himself at his brother and knocking them both to the ground. Damon, momentarily thrown off guard by his brother's strength, took a few punches before finally flipping Stefan over, slamming him to the floor, and grasping him by the neck.

Damon meant to let the charade go, and tell Stefan that nothing had happened between himself and Elena, but then his attention was pulled to how much of a fight Stefan was putting up. And how hard it was to contain him.

"You're back on human blood," he accused fiercely, while tightening his grip on Stefan's throat and pushing him harder into the rug. "What have you been doing, Stefan?!"

"It's not what you think," Stefan sputtered under Damon's crushing grip. He snuck a quick glance at Elena, who had taken up Damon's place in the doorway, before continuing. "Someone's been helping me."

Damon's eyebrows constricted skeptically, but he let his hand relax slightly around his brother's neck. "Who?" he asked finally.

Stefan's eyes once again sought out Elena. "I'd rather not say right now, Damon," he said quietly, meaningfully.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Damon shook his head and laughed humorously. "It's not Katherine, is it? Please tell me you are _not _that _stupid, _Brother."

"No." the younger Salvatore spoke in a tone lower than a whisper. "I'm working with Meredith."

There was an audible gasp from Elena, who had not spoken to the doctor since her transformation. As unfair as it may be, she blamed her current condition on the woman. Meredith had even tried to stop by to check on Elena in the days after the accident, but the new vampire had refused to see her.

Knowing that her boyfriend had been keeping this secret from her stung enough. The fact that it had to be Meredith just cut that much deeper.

From his position on the floor, Stefan was continuing in a grumble. "We have a deal," he told Damon. "I supply her with blood for the hospital, and she helps me… build up my tolerance."

After a moment, Damon rose to his feet, pulling Stefan up with him. "I must admit, Brother, It's not a bad plan. A win-win really."

Now that the tension in the room had eased, Stefan noticed two things simultaneously. First, the overpowering smell of human blood was back, and, second, Elena was gone. His eyes darted to the source of the strong odor: a heaping pile of rags and Elena's clothing where it lay on the floor of Damon's bathroom.

"Don't worry," Damon clasped his brother on the shoulder after watching the internal struggle play out on Stefan's face. "We don't want all that progress flying out the window. You get out of here. I'll deal with Elena."

Stefan glared at him, suspicious, while all the while the hunger was growing. He knew he couldn't stay in this house while it still reeked of his drug of choice without risking a relapse. But he also didn't want to leave Elena behind. The image of her slipping from Damon's room after seemingly waking up there, had not escaped his mind.

As if reading his thoughts, Damon continued firmly, "Nothing happened, Stefan. I'll explain everything later, just _go_."

And for once, he listened.

In the basement, Elena stood over the open blood freezer, letting the cool air distract her from the rage and confusion that were coursing through her veins. She was hungry, but the thick smooth liquid that had made her mouth water only yesterday, now only caused her remorse.

She had killed someone. She had killed many.

Slowly, the memories of last night were returning and every single one of them made her stomach churn. It had been a foolish idea to leave: to test her control while being so sad and angry. And naively, she had gone to a bar, where alcohol had caused whatever hold she had on her emotions and impulses to slip even further. _Stupid,_ she scolded, while knocking her head softly against the freezer's lid. Defying the eager growl of her stomach, Elena deliberately closed the lid.

A noise from behind caused her head to shoot up abruptly. "Damon," she snapped. "I'm not in the mood for anything you have to say-"

"So I'll listen," he cut her off.

Tears formed instantly, but she refused to let them fall. "I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet, ashamed by her outburst. Getting a hold on her heightened emotions was proving to be a challenge. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that—I'm just so angry! And jealous! And… sad."

True to his word, Damon remained quiet, patiently waiting for her to go on.

"He never told me. He never said anything about working on his tolerance—in fact, he has been pushing so hard for me to follow his animal diet. Hypocrite." She laughed bitterly. "And why does it have to be her?!"

Hanging her head, she continued quietly. "You followed me to that bar last night, didn't you?"

"Yes."

Elena met his eyes, her expression honest. "Thank you, Damon. I mean it."

"I was a little late," he pointed out while shifting his feet.

Walking forward and taking his hands in hers she whispered, "You stopped me from doing worse. Who knows what I might have done."

A few tears slipped out now, and ran down her cheeks as they stood together in silence.

Finally, Elena bashfully gestured at her clean pajamas. "I don't remember coming home. Or what happened afterward. Did you-?"

Damon coughed. "No, um, I called Caroline. That was all her."

"Oh," Elena looked up at him dumbly, not knowing what to say. She finally settled on a simple, "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, don't think I wasn't tempted," he quipped, trying to ease some of the tension in the room.

Elena's lips quirked up momentarily.

"I still can't believe Stefan, though…"

"He needs this, Elena. Whatever you think about the situation, let it go, I mean it. He needs to do this."

"But why Meredith," she whined childishly, reminding Damon of her age. "And why does he have to be so sneaky about it. And I bet he was with her overnight—"

Damon rolled his eyes and grasped both of her shoulders, coming down to meet her eyes. "Elena," he said slowly, as if speaking to someone very young. "One: if Meredith had not done what she did, you and I would not be having this conversation right now because _you would be dead. _So get over it and send her a damn fruit basket. Two: as you should be aware by now, blood lust is triggered by many things—one of them anger. Put two and two together Elena. You two have been fighting almost every night –thanks for that racket by the way—and Stefan leaves angry. Make him angry at night: he needs to eat at night. Try pissing him off during the day if you want a different outcome."

Elena smiled despite herself and Damon reached over her and opened the freezer, grabbing two blood bags and handing her one.

"I don't know, Da-"

"Eat, Elena." He said in a tone that left no room for argument. "You're hungry, so you eat. Unless you want a repeat of last night."

She shuddered and looked away, but he took hold of her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "You're going to be ok, Elena. I promise. Just don't punish yourself by starving. It won't do anyone any good. "

He popped the top off of the bag and held it to her lips. She hesitated, picturing the men that had died at her hands; feeling their pain and the pain of the families that they had left behind. The crushing sadness was back and her stomach lurched.

But then Damon reached down and took her hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. She met his gaze and he nodded once.

Slowly, she lowered her lips and sipped. It didn't taste revolting like she wanted it to. In fact, it tasted wonderful, and her hands reached up the grab the bag. She squeezed and drank heartily. Damon watched on until she had finished. When the bag flittered to the floor, he wiped a stray bead of blood from Elena's lip, and she sighed.

"Thank you, Damon." She said again, "For everything."

A cocky grin split his handsome face. "It's the least I could do, Elena. After all, you did keep me warm this morning."

Her mind flashed back to waking up in bed with him; her body completely wrapped up in his. At her faint blush, he snickered and strode confidently upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time.


	4. Fly Until You Crash

**Sorry for the delay! Also, thank you so much to everyone who is following/left a review!**

**Damon POV**

Can this day get any worse?

I shouldn't have asked. Because it could—and given my record, it probably would.

I pondered this logic as I lithely climbed the tree outside of Elena's bedroom and swung myself through the window that she has yet to learn how to lock at night. She was in the shower.

Usually, I would spend this time riffling through her stuff just to ruffle her feathers, or by imagining what I would do to her if I was in that shower too. But today I just paced the floor impatiently because I had just spent the last four, yes, _four, _hours searching everywhere for her after she disappeared from the boarding house today. And I mean everywhere.

Of course she would come home—because it was the first place that I looked—after I had already left.

And this was after I had to endure listening to Stefan moan and groan over the hardships of adjusting to Elena's vampirism and learning to control himself by working with the doctor. I mean, I'm proud of him and everything, and his newfound desire to learn to eat without brutally decapitating his meal in the process was a long time coming, but must we be so melodramatic.

Elena opened the bathroom door just as I am about to burn a hole in the carpet. She took one look at me and knew there was trouble. I must look infuriated. Good.

"So, you thought after just a few days of lessons that you had everything under control and that coming home was in no way a threat to Jeremy." My tone is darker than my mood but I can't help it. After turning over every stone in town, and then the surrounding towns, looking for this exasperating girl who never answers her phone when you need her to, I am close to irate.

"Jeremy isn't home." She says this while studying her bare feet. "He is spending the night at a friend's."

I snort unattractively. "What friend? Jeremy doesn't have any friends."

"I don't know, Damon." Her voice is rising now, its tone more aggressive. "The point is he isn't here. So… crisis averted." She even has the nerve to roll her eyes at me.

I stalk over to her in two quick paces and grab her arms, forcing her to look at me. She bristles and tries to push me away, but I am still stronger.

"I just spent my whole afternoon hunting you down. At least try and act a little apologetic."

Her expression softened. "Sorry, Damon. I just needed to get out of there. Stefan has been avoiding me and I just wanted to feel comfortable for once. It feels strange living there when he walks around all day like I don't exist." She looked around. "_This_ is my home. I want to be _here_."

"Just give me a heads-up next time. _Please_," I grumbled.

She smiled. "You got it."

As she moved to her bed, flopping down and hugging a pillow, I threw myself into a chair and propped my feet up on the window seat, getting comfortable.

"So…" she drew out as she watched me, "since you seem to be sticking around, what is the lesson of the day, oh Master of Vampirism."

"Cute," I deadpanned. But then an idea came—a much needed reward for putting up with this car wreck of a day without killing anyone. I swung my legs back down and sauntered over to her, wearing my best 'oh the things I'm going to do to you' look. Her eyes widened and her breath came out in quick uneven bursts as I sat down next to her, throwing the pillow she held aside. "What's the matter, Elena, nervous?"

She shook her head, clearing her eyes of the lust that was quickly clouding them, trying to appear as serene as possible. "No, I trust you, Damon."

"Good." I moved in a little closer and her eyelids fluttered just enough. "You're going to have to keep those open for what I have planned."

Catching herself and blushing a little, she sat up straighter and readied herself for whatever I was about to throw her way.

"We are going to work on your compulsion." I told her simply.

She seemed surprised. "But how? It won't work on you. And it's not like you can show _me_ either."

The corner of my lip turned up and her hands twisted in her lap. I loved that I could still make her nervous with just a look. A laugh. Nothing more than a smirk.

"We are going to practice it in theory. So you know what it should feel like," I explained, and she nodded again.

"So when you need to feed, and blood bags aren't available, you will need to hunt, as you know." She grimaced a little, but I went on anyway. "And if you want to accomplish what needs to be done as cleanly and as painlessly as possible, you will need to be on game with your compulsion."

"Ok," she said softly, studying my eyes.

I squared her shoulders so that we were face to face. "So, pretend that I'm the human. What do you do?"

At this, she giggled. "Can't we just ask Matt or Jeremy to help? This feels silly."

My expression must have told her that it wasn't up for negotiation because she got serious again. "Ok. Here goes nothing." I watched as her pupils dilated and she locked her gaze on my eyes. "You won't scream. I'm not going—" she stopped, rubbing her eyes with her palms. "This kind of hurts. It feels like trying to use a muscle that I'm not used to using."

"That's why we're practicing. Try again."

"I'm not going to hurt you. Don't move. Don't scream." Elena turned away again, blinking furiously.

"Don't concentrate so hard. Let it come naturally."

She groaned. "I don't know how, Damon. It doesn't feel natural at all."

I rubbed her arm reassuringly. "That's because you're trying too hard. Watch and learn…"

I locked eyes with Elena, telling her softly, "You're not afraid. Don't fight me."

She nodded involuntarily and had a glazed over look that made me question if she really couldn't be compelled anymore. But I realized that it was just her natural reaction to me taking over. I had known for a long time that she wanted me just as much as I wanted her; it was just a question of when she would stop fighting it.

Deciding to test her boundaries, I broke eye contact, moving my hand down to where her dark hair covered her neck and pushing it aside. Slowly, I brought my lips down to her neck and smiled when I heard her hands fist the comforter. Gently, without breaking skin, I bit down, causing her to groan in delight.

I spent a few more seconds working her sensitive skin before pulling away and clapping my hands together. "That's all there is to it," I announced with practiced nonchalance.

I was trying my hardest not to laugh at the turmoil that was playing across Elena's features or the way that she was trying to hide it.

I pushed forward. "Are you ready to try again?"

"Ok," she managed. Her voice breathy and hoarse. I watched as her chest heaved with growing anticipation.

Scooting closer to my side of the bed she gave me a penetrating stare and said quietly, "Don't move. You are going to like this. It's not going to hurt, it will feel good." Then she brought her lips down to my neck, where she kissed me softly and with some uncertainty.

This was a surprise.

She continued sucking on my neck and the vein there wasn't the only thing becoming more pronounced.

When I felt her canines descend and scratch the surface of my skin, I knew that this was about all I could take. This either had to end now, or I was pretty sure that I would lose all control and take her here and now.

I tried to pull back, but her hand tightened on the back of my neck. "I compelled you not to move, Damon," she murmured into the space between my neck and shoulders. "You're breaking the rules."

Elena's new attitude as a vampire had definitely been keeping me on my toes, but this about-faced turn in behavior was still pretty shocking. For a minute I didn't even know what to do.

And then I thought of Stefan.

Stefan—who needed my support to get through this blood thing. Stefan—who was still Elena's boyfriend.

"Elena, stop." I mentally kicked myself before the words even left my mouth.

Lucky for me, Elena had no intentions of listening to a word that I had to say.

She bit down, her fangs sinking deep and hitting the vein. She moaned with pleasure and crawled onto my lap.

Ok, screw Stefan.

**Elena POV**

I really don't know what had come over me.

Damon's blood filled my mouth and I lapped greedily at his neck, eager for more. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my conscience was screaming for me to stop behaving like this—like some insatiable animal desperate for more, desperate to be closer to him still.

But it was getting easier every day to ignore that little voice.

I pulled myself up on Damon's lap so that I was straddling him, and I felt his arms go around me, pulling me until our hips made contact. I rubbed myself against his lap as I drank for him, feeling the bulge in his pants grow.

Molding my body to his chest, I ran my free hand through his hair, pulling it back to gain better access to his neck. He responded with delicious sounds of appreciation.

Damon ran his hands up the back of my shirt, teasing my skin. His fingers played with my hips and the edge of my jeans. Every part of my body that he touched lit on fire.

Every part of me felt good. I never wanted this to end.

But in a second it was all over.

_You're still with Stefan, _said the little voice_. What would Stefan think? How would you tell him? _

I pushed Damon away and sped to the other side of the room, my breathing raged, his eyes wide.

He touched the blood on his neck, and realizing that the same blood must be smeared over the entire lower half of my face, I started to rub at my mouth, my chin. Embarrassment cannot even begin to describe how I felt at that moment.

He continued to stare, still speechless, until I couldn't take it anymore and I bolted to the bathroom.

Watching my refection, I studied my face for any sign of the girl I used to know. Tears welled up and I angrily swiped them away, cursing my lack of control yet again.

There was a knock on the door and I yelled, "Go away Damon," not ready to face him yet. I wanted to blame this all on him because it had been his stupid idea, but it was me who had asked for it in the first place. Me who had lost control.

When I finally came out of the bathroom, he was back on the window seat, leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees. His eyes were earnest, his face open.

"Can we just forget that just happened?" I whispered, studying his face.

Immediately, his eyes clouded with rejection and I watched as he threw all of his walls back up. Damon stood and swung back into his jacket, throwing a forced smirk my way. "Already forgotten. Don't worry about it."

It pained me to make him feel this way. I wanted to tell him that I didn't want to forget about how good it felt or that it happened with him—I just wanted to forget this girl that I was becoming. This girl who took over the reins sometimes without asking and made impulsive, hurtful decisions. This girl who wasn't me.

But I didn't say anything. I just locked my gaze on my shoes and eventually he left.


	5. Our Song

**Elena POV**

It was very obvious the next day that Damon still didn't want to be anywhere near me.

When Jeremy called to say that he was coming home, I packed my stuff and trudged back to the boarding house. Damon was in the den—drinking—and when he saw me he just kind of half- frowned and went on with his business.

I stayed in my room for a few hours fidgeting and feeling like an idiot for the way that I acted last night, then I decided that it was time to go talk things out with Damon.

He had moved his drinking to his room, so I knocked on his door and waited.

When he opened it, he looked majorly trashed and completely disheveled. I realized that he was still wearing the same clothes from last night and wondered if he had been at this drinking thing since he left my house. There was a very good chance that the answer was yes.

He grumbled a greeting that even my vampire hearing couldn't decipher and held the door open wide so that I could pass through.

I felt awkward now that I was here and I was regretting my decision to talk to him in his current state. I was well acquainted with _this_ Damon and I knew from experience that he wasn't at his most controlled when he drank like this.

Clearing my throat, I tried to amble into some small talk but he refused to take the bait. He seemed content to glare at me belligerently.

So I derailed from my plan. "Um, I was just coming to see if maybe you wanted to help me train, but it looks like you're busy so I'll just go back to my room…" I attempted an escape, but he flashed in front of me, blocking my path. The action caused him to stumble a little and alcohol sloshed over the sides of the glass in his hand.

"Of course you were coming to see if I could help you," he said bitterly. "That's all I ever do. Help _you_."

I tried to respond, but he cut me off, continuing, "And do you know what I get in return, _Elena_? I get head games. I get hot and cold and push and pull, and there is never an end to it. _Never_. You just take and take, and just when you start to feed me some God-damned hope, you take that back too."

Everything he said was true. I wanted to change it but I didn't know where to start.

"I'm sorry, Damon."

"You're always sorry. It starts to mean less when you say it again and again but never do anything differently."

I didn't know what else to say so I sulked back to my room and buried myself in blankets that were not mine and cried into a pillow that wasn't mine either until I fell asleep.

I woke hours later by the creeping sensation that I wasn't alone. This was confirmed when a hand shot out of the darkness and shook my shoulder roughly. The intruder persisted until I finally rolled over.

"Damon," I whined. "What time is it?"

My eyes stung and felt swollen from crying for so long. My throat hurt too.

"You wanted to train. Well I'm ready. Let's go."

"What kind of training?" My brain was so disoriented and my eyes refused to stay open.

He shook me again, harder this time. "Combat. Let's go."

If I didn't know any better I would say that he just woke me up at some un-godly hour for the chance to beat me up.

"Tomorrow." I grumbled to the pillow. I wasn't awake enough yet to appreciate the fact that he was actually talking to me.

"I'm ready now," he said brusquely. "Come on, get up."

I was starting to come to enough to notice that he had sobered up. I blinked in the darkness and his shape started to take form. He was wearing a black tee-shirt and dark jeans, and he had a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

"Fine." Admitting defeat, I rolled out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt over my tank top. I must have been so out of it last night because I didn't even remember putting on pajamas. I also knew by the tumbling feeling in my stomach that I had forgotten to eat too.

I followed Damon out of my room, pulling my hair into a ponytail as we went. He wasn't saying anything now. I trotted behind his long strides in silence as he led the way to the spot in the woods where we always went to work out. He stopped only when we reached the clearing, throwing the gym bag down and turning to face me.

"Wha—"

The word caught in my throat as Damon rushed me at full speed, knocking me to the ground with all of his strength. "What the hell, Damon!"

"Again." He walked back to his place as I straightened myself, brushing the dirt off the back of my shorts with both hands. He gave me no time to prepare myself before knocking me down again.

He sped back to his place before I even had the chance to register the pain that was radiating through the backs of my legs.

"Again."

"No!" I stubbornly stayed where I had landed, crossing my arms, and pulling a face. "You're being an ass and its 2:30 in the morning. I don't know why I even followed you out here. I'm going back."

He looked like he was considering something, and then, having made up his mind, he walked over to where I sat and pulled me up. "Ok, I _was_ being an asshole. I'll give you time to prepare this time. Just don't go yet."

"Ok, fine," I said under my breath, still a little angry.

He walked back to his spot and waited till I was in position: knees bent, ready to lunge when he made his move. He raised his eyebrows in question, and I nodded.

Before I could blink he was in front of me. I lunged left but so did he and the impact sent me headed once again for the dirt. But this time he caught me before I fell.

"Thanks," I murmured.

"You're slower than usual," he said in return, looking me over with a critical eye. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I forgot to," I admitted.

This caused him to throw up his arms up in exasperation. "This again, _Elena_. How many times do we have to go over this?"

As he spoke he marched over to the gym bag, pulled a blood bag out, and threw it over to me. "I was saving that for after, but you need it more now."

After I ate, we immediately got back to training. Damon wasn't going easy on me but he was no longer being mean-spirited either, and I actually began to enjoy myself—despite the fact that the sun hadn't even come up yet.

Working out with him was a challenge and a good way to release a lot of pent up energy and forget—for a few hours at least—how I was turning out to be a sad excuse for a vampire.

When we were both fully exhausted, we slouched to the ground next to the gym bag. He pulled out another blood bag, and ripping the top off, drank one long deep gulp before realizing that I was watching his every move with hungry eyes. He handed me the rest, saying, "This is why you eat when you are supposed to."

When I had finished my breakfast I turned to find him watching me while casually resting on his elbows. I put the empty plastic bag into the gym bag and turned so that my whole body was facing him.

"I'm sorry about the other night, Damon. I know that I keep apologizing, and I know that I keep messing up, but I can't help it right now. I'm going nuts inside and I don't know what to do."

He frowned. "I was drunk when I said those things to you, Elena. I was too harsh."

I looked at my hands where they rested in my lap, silently summoning courage.

"I was embarrassed by the way that I acted that night. I didn't mean to push you away and treat you like that."

I looked up to meet his eyes and told him bluntly, "I was afraid. Because I didn't want to stop and I thought that I wouldn't be able to stop. I wanted to be with you, but—"

"Stefan," he finished.

I nodded.

"So what are you going to do?"

_God help me. If only I knew._


	6. Truth Of The Matter

**ELENA POV**

I trudged back alone, and when I got back to my room Stefan was sitting on my bed, his elbows resting on his knees with his head hung downward.

I crossed the threshold and he didn't even bother to look up. "You've been with Damon." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I said cautiously. "He's been helping me with this vampire stuff. Teaching me control…"

"Control?" Stefan snorted and raised his bloodshot eyes. "He needs to do a better job. I can smell him all over you, you know."

Anger flooded my body, and I can feel the veins tickle the skin beneath my eyes. But they are gone again before I answer. "He was teaching me to fight, Stefan. Nothing more."

_Nothing more_. _Today. _

He stood, and it is only now that I see the empty blood bag dangling from his right hand. I took a step back. "Can you handle that yet?" I asked, gesturing to the bag.

He laughed a bitter laugh and a part of me wondered if Damon is close enough to hear me scream. Do I need Damon? Would Stefan hurt me?

Stefan advanced until we were a breath apart. "I _have _been learning control, Elena. Don't worry about me."

I bristle at his words.

"You've been spending all this time alone with _Meredith, _but, God forbid, I meet with _Damon_ without a chaperone!" I know that I am being a hypocrite. I probably do need a chaperone to hang out with Damon, and for all I knew, Stefan had done nothing wrong.

"I'm not in love with Meredith." He said it matter-of-factly, but it is an accusation that he waits for me to deny.

I don't.

Stefan tipped his head back, eyes closed, and laughed humorlessly. "I knew it."

Suddenly, everything became clearer than it had been for over a month. I do. I love Damon. I'm not in love with Stefan. Not anymore.

Ever since he sent me on that Denver trip with Damon, Stefan and I have been running on tiptoes towards this moment. It was finally here, and knowing that something is inevitable doesn't always make it easier to accept.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath, holding it for longer than I should be able to; when I spoke, my voice was surprisingly controlled. "Stop, Stefan. Sit down." I gestured to the bed. "Please."

The anger fell from his face and I think that he must know too, that our moment has come. He sat, and I sat too.

"Stefan—" My throat is closing already. "No more fighting… I can't—"

"I know, Elena. Believe me, I know." He sounds as deflated as I feel.

And then the tears were bubbling up faster than I could blink them away.

He smiled a small, trying smile. But it didn't reach his eyes. "He's not good enough for you, Elena."

"You're wrong," I told him softly, gently. "I think it may be me who isn't good enough for him."

Stefan sighed. "I knew it, you know. For longer than I care to admit." He stood now, and our moment is quickly passing. Our chapter was ending, just like that. Two years gone in the blink of an eye. "At first it just annoyed me, but I thought it was just some childish attraction. Then I saw it change into something more, and I did nothing."

What could I say to that? I rose from the edge of the bed to meet him and gave him a small hug.

"Stefan, I will always love you; more than you will ever know. But I'm not in love with you anymore. And I think that you feel the same way too. We are not the same people we were two years ago. I'm not that girl anymore. I won't ever be that girl again." I was ringing my hands so hard that I could feel bone grind on bone. "We both need to let go. Move on…"

That sad, hopeless laugh again. And the accompanying sigh held all the weight of our crumbled little world.

"Yeah. I guess it would be easier if I knew that you weren't moving on with my brother. Not something I really want to stick around for." He saw the turmoil radiating from my face and he continued. "I'm not angry, Elena. Not anymore… Just do me a favor—try to keep Damon from rubbing it in too much." He pulled me in for one last hug, and I realized with deep sadness that this was probably the most we had touched since I transitioned. "I'm going to get out of your hair for a while—"

Panic flooded and I jerked my head up to meet his serious gaze. "Wait! You're not going to leave, are you? Don't leave Mystic Falls because of me."

"I meant the house." He looked slightly amused by my distress. "I'm going to ask Caroline if I can crash with her for now."

"Oh." We let each other go. "Good. I don't want you to leave Stefan. Ever. Not because of me anyway."

"Don't worry about me, Elena. I'll be fine." He started for the door. "Thanks, I guess. For being honest with me."

He was putting on a brave face, but I knew that I had hurt him. And not just today. I'd been hurting us all for a while now. I wished that I could take back all of the pain that I had caused these boys. But I couldn't change the past. I could only try and make things better in the future.

By not hiding. By not being afraid.

I would tell Damon how I feel. He deserved to hear the truth for once.

I would tell him right now.


	7. This Bitter Pill

**Thank you for reading, following, and reviewing!**

**Damon POV**

I just realized something, and that something is this:

In the last two years I have repeatedly cut off my balls, gift wrapped them, and handed them over to a teenaged girl. A _teenaged _girl for fuck's sake. What the hell is wrong with me? What don't I ever seem to understand about _It will always be Stefan?_

I made a pact with my brother before all of this went down and I think that it's about time I followed through. It's time to hit the road. Stefan will be ok. Elena will be ok.

Elena might be ok.

Ok, who am I kidding? Elena will _not _be ok. Elena will always need me and I will never leave her. So I'm stuck here.

I raise my glass of bourbon to that depressing thought and toast the Grill, where I am currently camped out on my regular barstool getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon. I've been here since she left me in the woods this morning.

_I wanted to be with you, but—" _She'd said.

And therein lies the problem—there would always be a '_but'. _Because it would always be Stefan. And it will never be me.

My phone lets out a single beep, letting me know I have a text. Elena's shyly smiling face lights up the screen and I glare down at it while sliding it further down the bar. I'm in one of those moods where the tiniest thing could set me off, and I don't need the temptation.

When I first met Elena, I was in a place where I wouldn't have been any kind of good for her. So I made her forget. I let her go. I practically handed her to Stefan. But my traitorous mind loves to play 'what if' so while I drain my first bottle of bourbon and compel the bartender to hand over a new one, I imagine what it could have been like if I hadn't.

What if it could have been just the two of us?

I wouldn't have to play second best to Stefan. She wouldn't constantly hold his golden boy image over my head—always comparing the two of us. It would just be us.

From down the empty bar the phone beeps again and I give in to curiosity and snatch it up.

The first:_ Come home. _

The newest one questions my whereabouts.

I turn it off and slide back onto the barstool, abandoning the glass and drinking straight from the bottle.

If I have to live through another degrading chat about how she cares about me but I will never be able to balance on the pedestal next to Stefan so she'll just have to be the bigger person and let me go, I want to make sure I'm as close to black-out drunk as I can manage.

**ELENA POV**

Stefan is gone. He packed and now he is gone. I'm alone.

My heart gains momentum against its will and the effort hurts.

I have no idea where Damon went when I left him this morning. Well—I can guess. I would put a million bucks down on a bet that he's at the Grill. But the Grill is not a place where you tell a guy you love him after jerking him around for months. So I wait.

But the problem with waiting is that time slows down until it almost stops, until it almost moves backwards. Until you almost pull your hair out with frustration.

I make myself sit calmly on the couch. Damon waited for me this long. It's only fair that I have to wait now.

I jump back to my feet. It's so hard to be patient when the emotions inside of me are flipping and flopping and threatening to make my head explode. I need to eat. Without Stefan watching me with disappointed eyes because I rejected his animal diet. Without Damon telling me I have to. I'm a big girl—it's time I learned to take care of myself.

I take my glass of warmed blood up to my room because waiting in the den was making me too anxious. Every sound in the distance could be Damon's car. Could be Damon coming home.

I shove in some ear-buds and crank my iPod. I sip my blood slowly while trying to pretend that my nerves aren't jumping out of my skin. I check my phone every tenth of a second, but still no response from Damon.

And just when I am about to implode from sheer frustration and anxiety, the sound of the front door cuts through the music.

**DAMON POV**

_"I don't know." _That's what she'd said this morning when I asked her what she was going to do.

After everything that Stefan has put her through, she still didn't know. We've danced. We've kissed. I've lost count of how many times I've told her that I love her. She still didn't know.

On the long walk home from the bar I didn't bother with vampire speed. I put one off-balanced foot in front of the other and stumbled home as slowly as possible. I was in no rush.

Even now, standing in front of my dresser, trying to pull a clean shirt over my head with arms that felt like they belonged to another body, I wished that I was still walking. Anywhere but here.

I feel her eyes on me before she even makes a sound. So I slow my efforts with the shirt, making the muscles in my back ripple—giving her a show. Even four bottles deep into my drunken haze of angst, I still appreciate the sound of her breath catching. It makes me smile—just a little.

"Hi," she says and I turn to find her leaning on the doorjamb, arms and legs crossed, eyes alight.

"Hi, yourself."

She looks down briefly and when she looks up again, she's smiling.

"I realized something about you today… about us," she says determinedly.

Something about this makes me angry. Maybe it's the fact that there is no 'us'. Or maybe it's that she picks the worst possible moments to stage these little chats.

I want her out of my room and when the force of my glare doesn't do the trick, I resort to being a prick. "I realized something too."

She closes the space between us and the smile drops when she sees how far gone I am. And that's the last straw. Yes, Elena, I like to drink. Shocker, I know. You really shouldn't be surprised by it anymore—you happen to be the cause of a lot of my bad habits.

Also, I recently witnessed you on a little binger yourself—one that culminated with the throats of five annoyingly cocky frat boys being ripped out. I may be drunk but my hands are clean tonight, so drop the little judgey act.

Of course I don't say any of this because I don't need a slap to the face or a barrage of self-loathing tears, so I just sneer at her until she backs up a step or two.

"And what's that?" she asks cautiously.

Here we go. "That I'll never be my brother. And I don't care anymore." I shrug. "Stick things out with Stefan. You two will break up and make up and chase each other through the next ten centuries. But I'm out."

Her mouth is a picture perfect 'O' like this was the last thing she expected. Truth is, I never really expected to say it. The idea had been running through my alcohol drenched brain all day but I never thought that I would ever say the words out loud. I guess I was finally taking back my balls. I smirk.

I'd be kidding myself if I thought that I could sweep aside my feelings for her just like that, but I'm tired of having my love for her discounted just because I've killed a few of her acquaintances over the years. I am who I am. Take it or leave it.

For once, I am going to be the one rejecting _her. _

Elena opens her mouth to argue but I cut her off. "I care about you, Elena. That's why I have to let you go." I end with a smile that's all fox.

Her jaw drops and I know that one hurt. But I just can't seem to stop myself. If she says one word, I will take it all back, so I need to get her out of here.

I wiggle to fingers to mimic walking and point to the door. "You can thank me for saving you from having to make another legendary rejection speech later."

Without a word, she turns very slowly and then runs from the room with everything she has. I don't waste a minute before staggering over to the bed and passing out.


	8. Not With Haste

ELENA POV

Outside the sun is sinking which means another day is mercifully ending—another one down, only an infinite number left to go.

Damon has made himself scarce since our meeting in his bedroom the other night, and when I do see him, he's drunk and moody. He's back to acting like the old Damon—the one who didn't bother trying to impress me by being a better man. We haven't spoken more than two words to each other in the past six days.

I've tried not to let this all bother me too much; I know what he is doing. But it hurts just the same.

I'm in the second floor library because I can't be in my room anymore. My room was where I waited with thrumming nervous excitement to claim Damon as my own. Where I silently practiced mouthing the words 'I love you' until I had it just perfect. I was naïve to think that Damon would just wait around until I had everything figured out. Damon Salvatore waits for no one.

Apparently.

Because he shot me down.

I'm pacing. I wish that I could cry it out with Caroline over chocolate and whole pints of coffee ice-cream like the good-old-days, but Stefan is over there right now and I just chased him out of one house—I wasn't about to chase him out of another. Bonnie's out of the question… she would just gloat. Jeremy's my little brother, and Rick is dead. So that leaves me. Just me alone with my feelings.

Which is never a good thing, by the way. Because left alone with my feelings they just multiply and grow until bad becomes awful and awful becomes devastating.

Without warning my legs give out and I am curled up on the dusty floor, crying with such intensity that my throat burns and my stomach aches. I hug my knees as I shake and shake. I've held it together all week but the small tether holding what's left of my sanity intact just snapped. I'm a goner.

I cry harder until I choke from the effort. When I finally open my swollen eyes, I find that I can't move. I have no desire to. I've ruined everything, and Damon is out to prove that I had good reason to put my hazards on when we first met. He's running the bad brother act right into the ground.

I want to go home, but Jeremy's there.

Hunger rolls through me and I accept that I can't hide in here forever. Damon's home, but if I hurry I can make it to the basement and back without running into him. I look like the wicked witch after a particularly heavy rain storm and I'd rather he didn't see me like this.

First, I give in and call Caroline.

"So, let me guess—your calling because you need me to go lingerie shopping with you." Caroline giggles on her end of the line. "Damon has torn through your whole panty collection already?"

"My panties are intact, no worries there… my dignity not so much," I grumble.

There is a long pause. "Wait—nothing's happened?" Her voice is rising now. "You two have been alone all week and nothing has happened yet?" I have to pull the phone away a little because she is yelling now. "I have your ex camped out on my trundle-bed because he doesn't want to run the risk of walking in on you and his brother christening the couch, and nothing is even happening!?"

I try to cut in, but she's on a roll, and there is no chance of getting even a syllable in over Caroline Forbes mid-rant. "Do you know how hard it is to get laid, Elena, when you have a guy on your freaking trundle? Do you? Because I do. Get on with it or I'm sending him home."

I'm laughing despite myself because I'm picturing Stefan on that tiny little girl bed—with a sexually frustrated Caroline as his roommate. She starts laughing too and then whines. "It's so not funny."

"It kind of is," I tell her; but I quickly sober up. "Damon told me he's not interested in me anymore." My voice is so quiet and bleak that it almost doesn't even sound like me.

"That asshole!" She's yelling again. "You finally tell him how you feel and all of a sudden he's not _interested _anymore. I'm going to freaking kill him. I hope he can freaking hear me—you're a dead man, Damon Salvatore!"

I knew she was my best friend for a reason.

"I never got a chance to tell him. He just kind of told me…" A few tears escape my tired eyes and make a soundless trail down my face. "So I never told him."

"Oh," is all she says. And then she seems to shake herself out of it and she's all business again. "You're going to have to change his mind. Go tell him. Does he even know that you broke up with Stefan?"

"I don't think so. Um, Stefan's not there, right?"

"Duh. Of course not, Elena. He's out communing with nature. So what's the plan? Because you have to have a plan. You have to change his mind."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Have you met Damon? There's no changing his mind; he does whatever he wants."

Caroline sighs in defeat and so do I.

DAMON POV

Elena comes barging into the room in such a huff that it takes a minute longer than it should to notice her puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks. The way her mascara has left smudged shadows high on her cheeks.

I have to cement my shoes to the floor to stop myself from kissing all of her sadness away. I'm the one that made her cry—this much is obvious. But I hate every minute of it.

My only hope is to consume enough blood and liquor to dull the guilt until she finally realizes that I'm right. Saint Stefan is her epic love, and I am just some temptation that she tries to hide behind fleeting glances. She wants my body, not me.

The only problem with my plan is that when I drink this much, my Douche Censor goes on the fritz and I say and do whatever the hell I want without thinking of the consequences.

Elena comes to a halt a good three feet from where I stand, fists curled at her side. "Why the hell is there a lock on the freezer?" Her voice is cold but it's scratchy from crying.

I raise a knowing eyebrow. "I live with an emotional baby vampire and a blood-slut of a brother who is constantly fighting for control. I figured if I'm stuck here playing camp counselor to you two, I might as well do my dammed best."

She scrunches her face like she's confused by something I've said. "Stefan isn't here. You didn't notice?"

"He's not here _right now_, but he'll be back. Probably just taking in the raging Mystic Falls party scene."

Elena doesn't take well to my sarcasm. "No, you idiot. He's not here—he moved out days ago. We broke up…"

This is news to me. On both accounts. I let hope just break the surface before shoving it back under and drowning it. They'll get back together. What really shocks me is that he moved out and I didn't even notice. I try to remember the last time I saw him and can't.

I cover my surprise with more sarcasm. "So what—you got the house in the divorce? Should I pack up too or am I welcome to stay?"

Fresh tears well up and she swallows heavily. "I hate you," she whispers. It packs a punch.

I can't let myself fall back into this endless cycle of disappointment. She'll get over it. We'll go back to having a friendship ripe with sexual tension, and I'll go back to loving her in secret while not so secretly jealously loathing my dip-shit brother. She just needs a few more days.

I dig into the back pocket of my jeans and throw her a key. "Bring it back," I tell her sternly and then she's gone.

I can breathe again.


End file.
